


The Curse

by trillian_jdc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Female Mycroft Holmes, Gender or Sex Swap, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Mystrade is Magic, Pre-Relationship, magical transformation, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24399118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillian_jdc/pseuds/trillian_jdc
Summary: Mycroft Holmes is magically made to appear female. This doesn't bother him, since Greg Lestrade likes women. That's not all Greg likes, though.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 12
Kudos: 96
Collections: Mystrade Is Magic, Sherlock (BBC)





	The Curse

The curse was not a particularly creative one. And whoever thought that turning Mycroft Holmes into a woman would disadvantage him was clearly living in the last century. The power brokers and politicians he dealt with knew better than to belittle or proposition or assault him, even now that he was a her. His brainpower hadn't changed, nor had the temperament that built his reputation, nor had his knowledge of all the secrets and motivations no one wanted exposed. Everyone was afraid of being the next harassment scandal, anyway. 

All things considered, the worst part of the change was having to call his tailor to have his trousers and waistcoats adjusted to account for the new curves on his body -- which weren't excessive. He'd worked hard to be a leaner man, so now he was a slender woman. The heels he somewhat enjoyed, plus they gave him even more of a height advantage over his brother. 

No, there weren't many drawbacks. And there was one major benefit to his situation, and that involved someone he hadn't dared to dream of previously. That delicious Detective Inspector Sherlock tolerated... Greg Lestrade had been married, but now he was divorced, and since he clearly liked women, now Mycroft might be able to take advantage of this unexpected opportunity. 

The right case had just come along. Something government-related, so Mycroft had an excuse to appear at the scene. Something that appeared complicated, but really wasn't, so Sherlock would get bored and leave early, which would give Mycroft an opening to apologize and offer an alternative. 

Mycroft made a slight alteration to his usual outfit. He was still wearing grey pinstripes in trousers, waistcoat, and jacket, but he had removed his shirt to reveal his bare neck and a hint of cleavage. Thus primed, he had his car pull up just after Sherlock had whirled off, doctor in tow. He emerged, umbrella in hand, ready to bask in the gratitude of DI Lestrade after offering a helping hand with the case. 

For a long while, Mycroft had trained his staff not to gossip about him. Most relished the opportunities his department would bring their career, and those who weren't smart enough to keep their mouths shut were quickly reassigned to dead end positions. Sherlock didn't much care what sex his brother was, and he avoided talking about him as much as possible. Which explained why Lestrade apparently hadn't heard about Mycroft's changed situation. At least, that was the explanation Mycroft thought was most plausible for why the Detective Inspector was staring at him, open-mouthed. Or maybe he'd miscalculated the effect the display of his bare skin would have. 

Mycroft stood for a few moments, until Lestrade appeared to have recaptured his senses. "Good evening, Inspector," he smiled. 

"My-Mycroft? Is that you?" 

"I don't believe I've changed **that** drastically, have I?"

"... Surprisingly, no." Lestrade didn't seem to know where to put his eyes, and he kept looking like he wanted to say something but wouldn't, opening and closing his mouth. 

Mycroft took pity on him. Lestrade was curious but a modern man, admirably aware that gender portrayal wasn't an area to be pried into if not invited. So he answered the unspoken questions. "It wasn't my choice, and my team is investigating causes and repercussions. All things considered, it's a minor alteration that should be reversible." 

"It's none of my business, but I hope so." 

"Oh, Inspector? Why is that?" 

Lestrade averted his eyes, looking at the ground where the umbrella tip rested. "... Never mind. Shouldn't have said. Don't know you well enough." 

Mycroft was intrigued that this handsome man could seem shy. He tucked his hand around Lestrade's arm. "Well, then, I shall take you to dinner and ply you with wine. You know a Holmes can't stand to see a mystery uninvestigated." 

* * *

During dinner, at a fine French restaurant with a cozy atmosphere and a discreet waitstaff, Mycroft became aware of another major disadvantage of his newly female form. At first, when he felt the painful clench in his lower belly, he thought the coq au vin was poorly prepared, until he remembered that food poisoning usually takes a few hours to develop. Then he recalled memories of a rather personal discussion he'd once had with Anthea that he'd rather have forgotten. 

He hadn't thought through one major implication of his changed anatomy. He was going to menstruate. At the worst time possible. Just when he and Gregory -- Lestrade had demanded first names over dinner -- were becoming more friendly. Mycroft gritted his teeth and bowed to the inevitable. 

"I'm terribly sorry, Gregory, but I'm afraid I must cut this delightful dinner short." He almost hissed the last, as a wave of cramps hit. 

"You're not feeling well." 

"Why was Gregory so insightful **now**?" Mycroft thought to himself. 

Greg continued. "What can I do? I'll see you home, yeah?" He stood up, then pulled Mycroft's chair out for him and helped him up, arm around his waist. Well. This might still have a silver lining. 

Mycroft let himself be helped to the car, after a brief word to settle the bill with the maitre d'. 

As the vehicle got underway, Greg was still concerned. "How can I help, Mycroft?"

Mycroft felt his pale cheeks coloring. "Now it's my turn to say I don't know you well enough to answer." 

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." 

"Gregory! On a first date?" 

"I'm glad you're thinking of this as a date as well." Greg grinned back at him, and he was instantly distracted from any pain in the glory of that smile. 

"I admit, that was something I found a comforting prospect of this whole situation. That I was finally a suitable potential match for you." Mycroft stared at the footwell as he admitted his plan, unwilling to see if Gregory was disappointed in his scheming. 

"Mycroft, look at me." Greg reached over and tipped up his chin until their eyes met. "The reason I hoped this might not be permanent was that I had dreamed of sucking your cock. But I'm fine either way. Person's more important than the package. And I'm not going to push anything when you're not well. Now c'mere." Greg lifted his arm, gesturing. 

Mycroft leaned into Gregory's side and closed his eyes. He did feel better. 

* * *

They arrived at Mycroft's home, and he didn't want to get out of the car. But his life was about doing what he didn't want to do, much of the time. Things would look better tomorrow, when he could call Anthea and have her bring him whatever he needed for this discomfort. He sighed, sat up, and turned to Gregory. 

"My car will take you home. My apologies for disrupting..." He was interrupted. 

"C'mon, let's get you settled," Greg said as he opened the door. "You still haven't told me your secret." 

"It's annoying and embarrassing, but I'm afraid being a woman comes with a certain monthly ailment." 

"Oh, Mycroft, you forgot I was married. Know all about it." Greg helped Mycroft out of the car and into the house. "Where's your bathroom?" 

Mycroft gestured towards the stairs and found himself being half-carried in that direction. Once they arrived, the bathtub taps were started, and his jacket was gently but efficiently removed. 

Greg took a moment to appreciate Mycroft's bare arms before asking, "Any salts? Bubbles? Oil?" 

"Gregory, you are not my valet!"

"Ok, ok," Greg raised his hands and stepped back. "Got a little carried away, but if you make yourself comfortable and soak a bit, I'll rustle up some dessert." Greg backed out of the door, and Mycroft heard his steps descending the staircase as he continued getting undressed. 

* * *

He was right, a hot bath worked wonders. Mycroft didn't even mind when Gregory returned to the bathroom with two glasses of red wine, a selection of dark chocolates, and a box of pads tucked under his arm. He set down the items he was carrying, ducked out, and came back again with a bundle of cloth that turned out to be pajamas and knickers. 

"Gregory, I know I didn't have all this in the house." 

Greg chuckled and set down the items he was carrying. "I asked for help. Your assistant was happy to make a late-night shop run, although I might owe her several dozen favors in future. D'you mind if I stay?" 

"Please." Greg perched on the wide ledge corner of the tub, as Mycroft continued. "If you owe her, I am obligated to you. This is the first time I've regretted this curse, and you're making it bearable." 

"I like taking care of people I care about, Mycroft." The two sat quietly, sipping wine, nibbling chocolate, and smiling at each other. After a bit, Greg put his glass aside and took up a towel, holding it stretched wide. "Time to get out. No getting chilled." 

Mycroft rose to his feet and was wrapped in the soft cotton. It was the oddest hug he'd ever had, but his experience was limited. Greg gently patted him dry, then softly said, "I'm going to leave you for a bit. Take your time." 

Mycroft got himself ready for bed. When he entered the bedroom, he discovered his sheets and duvet had been pulled back, and Gregory had fallen asleep on the settee in the corner. Mycroft chuckled to himself, picked up his friend, and rearranged him on the other side of the bed. As he slipped between the sheets, Mycroft looked forward to waking next to him in the morning.


End file.
